My "Mother" Was a Day Trader

I knew she was investing.
But I didn't realize the existence of her notebook until after she passed away.
Inside were daily dates, and the prices at which they rose and fell.
Rows of orderly numbers.
She was buying and selling every single day.
There was a mother I never knew.

This is a story about a friend of mine from high school.
Her mother passed away at the beginning of this year.
She was in her early 70s.
Apparently, she had an underlying health condition.
Still, she was young.

"That must have been so hard for you."
After hearing that one sentence from me, my friend began to talk, little by little.

About how her mother was when she passed, and how her father was doing.
I listened to it all in turn.

And when the topic shifted to cleaning up afterward, I was stunned.

Her mother was vastly different from the "mother" I had unconsciously imagined.

Her mother was a day trader.

And a highly skilled one at that.

The notebook found after she passed away contained a record of her daily trades.

It was written in detail, showing how she bought and sold based on rules she had set for herself.

When a tax accountant checked all of her assets,
"Was she really a full-time housewife?"
they were apparently surprised to ask.

My friend also said she was speechless when she learned the total value of her mother's assets for the first time after she died.

I haven't heard the exact numbers either.
For some reason, I'm afraid to ask.
It feels like she might drift further away from me.

But still, being the careless person I am, this feeling also came up.
"I wish I had a mother who was a skilled day trader, too."

Of course, it's not something that can be traded for the sadness of losing a mother.
I also find myself imagining if there could have been a life where she used those assets for travel or other fun things.

But I can't say that I'm not envious.

My friend's children are still small.
Even if they go to public elementary and junior high schools, going to cram school costs tens of thousands of yen a month.
Her eldest son entered high school this year, and the miscellaneous expenses came to just under 300,000 yen.
To name the big items, she had to buy a uniform, textbooks, a club uniform, and an iPad.

And for university,
"If it's a private one, it costs about a million yen every year," I've heard from older moms.
There is no doubt that all of these costs will come up for each of her children.

For her, raising three children, the money her mother left behind will surely be a source of great reassurance.

For a long time, I had heard her say,
"My relationship with my mother isn't very good."

That is precisely why I cannot imagine what my friend thought when she saw the side of her mother and the notebook she only learned about after she passed away.

And it has absolutely nothing to do with me.

Yet, I find myself whispering it unintentionally.

"Mother," thank you.